Jeremy Lee's shellfish broth and mint chutney

Despite living on an island surrounded by bountiful waters, we Brits are not the best at making the most of what the oceans can provide us. We go abroad and come back with tales of wonderful clams in Spain, or beautiful langoustines in France, but the fact is we have better here. The best, in fact. At Her Majesty's coronation in 1953, chicken was a noble bird that carried a certain synonymity with luxury, which is why it found its way into the banquet within that famous bright yellow, creamy concoction.

Nowadays the poor old chicken doesn't quite carry the same weight, but delicious shellfish does. This recipe, along with the fresh, pretty chutney that is a wee nod to how food has progressed over the decades, really makes the most of the sweetness of langoustines; the deep meatiness of the mussels and the delicate brine flavour from the clams. But it's a moveable dish, and will work with most shellfish, and most budgets. Should a crab fall into your pot, wonderful. Or a lobster? Heavens, the horizons are endless. But it will still pack a punch with just mussels, or whatever you can get. And while the preparation of the dish is a little timely, the procedure is simple – you could feed a banquet. It's a perfect dish for a special lady.

It is vital that the shellfish is very fresh and very much alive – that it's so good that it merely requires only the lightest cooking. Preferable also is the serving of the broth not long after making it – keep it out of the fridge as chill kills flavour and texture all too quickly.

First make the mint chutney. Pop the spices in a frying pan and roll gently over a modest flame until a rich scent is released after a minute or so. Tip these into a coffee grinder or a pestle and mortar and render into a powder. Pick the mint leaves and place them in a blender with the lemon juice and pound until smooth. Add the spices and then the yoghurt to make a pretty, green, fresh chutney. Season with salt and pepper if necessary. This can sit for an hour or two, well covered in the refrigerator, prior to scoffing.

Fill a large pan with water and bring to a furious boil. Season with as much salt as needed to make the water taste of the sea. Drop in the langoustines and cook for 45 seconds. Remove these to a tray.

Remove and discard the beards from the mussels, and wash them well under cold, running water, then drain. Wash the clams in a similar fashion.

Gently cook the onion with the butter in a clean, large pan and turn up the heat to full. Tip in the drained mussels and the white wine, season with salt and pepper. Place a lid on the pan, shake gently and let the mussels steam open, discarding any that remain firmly shut. Once opened, remove to a bowl and cover with a damp cloth. Place the clams in a pan and cook the same way, then remove to a bowl and cover. Proceed similarly with the razor clams. Reserve the cooking liquor.

Pour the cooking liquor from the mussels and clams into a small pan, checking closely for any grit, and straining if required. To this add the 150ml of water. Bring to a boil and lower the heat to a simmer.

Split the langoustines in half. Take all the clams and mussels from the shell. Boil the liquor, add the cream, add a squeeze of lemon juice, check the seasoning, then stir into the broth. Tumble in the vegetables and chopped parsley, checking the seasoning again. Spoon over the mint chutney just before serving.

Sat Bains' fish pie

Sat Bains' fish pie. Photograph: Romas Foord for the Observer

Fish pie is a British classic. It's something you gobble up after getting back from school on a weeknight, or that your nan makes you for tea. Done well, with nice fish, it's a thing of beauty. I'll be honest, though, when I put fish pie on the menu at the restaurant people were a bit surprised, because they associate it with something heavy that makes you want a little nap on the sofa afterwards.

But this version is deceptive; it transforms that heaviness into something light. When it comes out it looks like a regular fish pie, and the flavour profile is essentially the same, but when you dig in and get to the stock sauce, fragrant and rich with the fish bones and the kombu (seaweed), it's much more refined. The breadcrumbs give it a great crunch, too, and stop the mash getting too cloying.

It's a perfect jubilee dish, because it's something we all know. It's in our blood. When the Queen celebrated her Silver Jubilee in 1977 I was six, and it transformed our neighbourhood. Everyone was talking to each other regardless of where they were from and, as an Indian family living in Derby, this was wonderful. Everyone partied in the streets together. It was unifying.

To make the fish sauce, place the pollock bones into a pressure cooker, cover with water and add the kombu. Put the lid on and gently bring up to a simmer. Simmer for 20 minutes, then allow the pan to cool naturally before removing the lid. (If you don't have a pressure cooker, put it in a normal pan, and bring it up to a simmer for 20 minutes.) Strain through a chinoise into a clean pan. Reduce to a sauce consistency.

Add the cream and bring to the boil. Strain again and store in an airtight container until needed.

Cook the potatoes just before serving. Peel them and place in a pan – add enough cold water to cover and a generous pinch of salt. Bring them to the boil, then turn down to a simmer and cook until tender. Keep warm.

Gently fry one side of the fish on a plancha or in a hot pan in a little oil until golden. Turn and place on a lightly oiled metal tray. Cook gently on the lowest setting under the grill until the fish is just opaque. Season with a little lemon juice and sea salt.

To make the crumb, toast the breadcrumbs until golden brown. Allow to cool and then mix with the freshly grated parmesan.

To serve, place the fish in the middle of a dish. Put the potatoes in a ricer and squeeze over the fish, making sure it is covered. Spoon over the sauce. Top with the crumb mix. Place under a hot grill and lightly toast. Serve.